Behind Closed Eyes
by swirlofcolor
Summary: After three years of training in Idris, Clary's back on an assignment from the Clave. When encounters with demons, vampires, and angels ensue, Jace can't help but think that she's not telling the truth. How can he protect the girl that he once loved?
1. returning

**chapter 1: returning;  
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><p><strong> -x-<strong>

Clary stepped out of the silver Mercedes, spinning her steele in her hand. She lowered her aviator sunglasses and pushed them back against her nose, breathing in the familiar scent of downtown Manhattan. A taxi sped down the road, sending a gush of wind flying against her slim figure. Smiling, Clary stopped spinning her steele and slid it carelessly into its holder on her belt.

"You ready?"

Simon asked as he had opened the passenger seat door and had almost fallen out of the car. He had skidded a little, recovering in a semi-crouch, and was now examining the damage done to his Converse.

Clary smiled, stifling a smile. "Whenever you are, Squirt."

Simon brushed his knees off and stood up. "You haven't called me that since I was five." He tugged on his tattered, V-neck t-shirt and straightened his glasses.

Clary walked over to the trunk door and grabbed a black suitcase. "Well, you haven't changed much since then. Physically _or_ mentally." She hoisted the suitcase behind her back and gestured for him to come. Simon glared playfully but shook his head.

"I can't go into the Institute, remember?" He brushed his hair out of his eyes and grabbed the other suitcase. Clary pouted.

"But you could at least walk me there," she argued, straightening the hem of her jeans. "I might get mugged on the way."

Simon laughed, shutting the hood of the car and locking it. "The Damsel-In-Distress thing doesn't work for you anymore. You could kick the mugger's ass all the way across the Pacific Ocean if you wanted." Still, he hoisted the suitcase up and walked up to her, punching her lightly on the shoulder.

Clary punched him back, and sighed. _I don't want to live here,_ she thought, and the knot in her stomach tightened. She pushed her aviators back on her nose - she would remember to tighten them when she got a moment - and glanced up at Simon's face. He was smirking.

"You'll be fine," he said, reading her feelings like an open book. "It's not as if you don't know them or anything. They're friends - Isabelle is so excited to see you. And," he added mischievously, "unlike me, they don't bite."

They had reached the ornately carved, wooden doors of the Institute. Simon dropped off the suitcase he was carrying and smiled at Clary. She groaned inwardly at the sight of the Institute, and shot Simon an annoyed look.

"It's suppose to be a joke, see, 'cause I'm a vampire," he said confidently, as if Clary hadn't understood it the first time. She snorted, pulling him into a hug.

"Always the same old Simon," she said. His arms felt familiar against her own, safe. She realized now just how much she had missed him when she was away. He was her best friend, and nothing would change that.

Simon grinned down at her as he let her go. "I'll be back in a month, okay? I'll send you pictures from the gigs we stop at." With that, Simon pulled her into one last hug, and said goodbye. As he sauntered back to his car, he turned and waved. Clary bit back a smile, and turned to the oak doors. Drawing a quick breath, she pushed them open and lifted both the suitcases behind her back.

Clary glanced down at her leather jacket before taking the aviators off and perching them on her head. She smiled sadly, missing him already, as she stepped into the Institute, hearing the sound of Simon's car as he revved it and reversed out of the parking lot. Then the doors shut.

**-x-**

"Clary!"

Clary, still hoisting two suitcases behind her back, gasped involuntarily as she was attacked by Isabelle and pulled into a hug. The familiar scent of strawberries filled her nostrils as she breathed in Isabelle's distinct smell.

"Omigosh, it is _so _good to see you again," Isabelle started, breaking the hug. They were standing in the parlor of the Institute, light flooding from everywhere. To Clary's left, the doors to the elevator glittered, to her right, a hallway that broke into a sparkling clean kitchen. Isabelle was grinning from ear to ear. "We have so much to catch up on - " she stopped herself as she caught a glimpse of Clary's appearance, a look of surprise on her face.

Clary glanced down at her dark denim jeans and tight fitting leather boots. Her black t-shirt was hidden under her black leather jacket, and she was wearing a silver chain necklace with no ornaments, which had once held a ring. She didn't think she'd looked that bad...

"You look so..." Isabelle trailed off, glancing down at Clary's appearance. She shook her head. "Different. Anyways, I'll show you to your room."

Clary followed willingly as Isabelle chatted off, mentioning this person and that, updating Clary on her busy life.

"Alec is staying with Magnus at the moment," she explained happily, "so you won't see him till later. And mum and dad are off at some Clave meeting, they'll be back tomorrow."

She led Clary to the elevators and pushed the up button. "You'll be staying in one of the rooms down the hall from mine, it's really nice." Isabelle hadn't stopped talking, but Clary didn't mind much. She glanced at her reflection in the elevator's mirrors, and attempted to straighten her bangs, failing miserably. _Oh, well,_ Clary thought. _I'll fix them later. _Isabelle smiled at her and grabbed one of the suitcases from her hands.

"So, what brings you back?" She asked, her eyes twinkling in curiosity. "Mum mentioned something to do with the Clave..."

The doors to the elevators made a soft 'ding' as they opened, and Clary stepped out onto the wooden floors. Smirking a little, she turned to Isabelle.

"Yeah," she said, brushing her hair out of her face as she went. "The Clave asked me to do some reconnaissance work for them. Plus, Idris doesn't have enough cute guys...It got pretty boring."

Isabelle nodded understandingly, and guided Clary down the narrow hallway, stopping in front of the last door. It had a brass handle and a tag with her room number on it. Isabelle fished around in her pockets for a little while, eventually pulling out a key.

"This is your key," Isabelle said, handing Clary a small ring with a simple, silver key on it. "Usually the rooms are just left open, but if you want to look it..." Clary nodded, and slipped the keys into the pocket of her jeans. She didn't plan on using the keys much, but nevertheless she grinned at Isabelle as she opened the door with her free hand. She walked down a small corridor, noticing a bathroom to her left. She turned to face Isabelle , and said:

"Thanks so much, Izzy. I'll just start setting up - " Clary stopped in her tracks when she caught Isabelle's surprised expression. The girl's lips were pulled into an 'o' and her eyebrows had ridden all the way up to her hairline. Turning around, Clary caught sight of what had Isabelle so startled.

Lying on her bed, still completely oblivious to any disturbances, was a shirtless Jace Lightwood with an even more clothe-less girl underneath him.

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><p><strong>hey guys :) my first fanfic in the <span>Mortal Instruments<span> series.**

**just a quick note: the characters are all shadowhunters/vampires/werewolves as they were in the original Mortal Instruments installment. The fight with Valentine also happened. But this story is sort of a continuation from City of Glass, and ignores City of Fallen Angels. Apologies. Also, Clary is slightly OOC in this story - but that's just because she went away for 3 years to train in Idris...**

**disclaimer: characters/setting are not mine, but Cassandra Clare's.**


	2. reunited

**chapter 2; reunited**

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><p><strong>-x- <strong>

"What the _fuck,_ Jace?"

Isabelle was standing in the kitchen, her arms crossed over her chest, her eyes ablaze. She was holding a stele in one of her hands, resting it on her side, but Jace knew it was all for show. She wouldn't touch him with a weapon. Nevertheless, Isabelle was as intimidating as ever, and Jace shivered slightly when she yelled at him, her feet tapping impatiently against the floor and her mouth stretched into an unhappy grimace.

"Why the hell would you do that?" Isabelle demanded, her eyebrows furrowed. Jace glared back, mildly, as he shrug it off and jumped onto the counter.

"Do what, Izzy?" He asked innocently, his eyes widening in fake concern. "What did I do?"

Jace's playful smirk quickly vanished when he saw Isabelle's eyes tighten, as her fingers griped the stele in her hands. She took a small step towards him, then another, until she was standing face to face with him. Jace regretted seating himself on the counter - usually, he was several inches taller than Isabelle, and she'd find it difficult to look down at him. Right now, however, Izzy was in her intimidating mode, and her fiery eyes were staring down at him in what Jace understood to be the look one would have if one wanted to squash a bug.

"Don't," Isabelle started, enunciating every word in a painfully slow demeanor, "play games with me, Jace Lightwood. You knew very well that someone was staying in that guest room, and that they were coming today, yet you went ahead and brought a _mundie_ into the Institute to play a little with." Jace's eyes tightened as he repeated:

"Someone,"he mimicked Isabelle's high voice. "You said _someone._ You failed to inform me that _someone_ meant _Clary._" Isabelle's eyes flickered and she faltered, but just for a second, before retaliating.

"Oh, so now it's my fault? It's my fault that _every fucking time_ someone mentions Clary, you go off and sulk in your room? It's my fault that you broke her fucking heart? It's my fault that she came back after three years and saw you with some random girl, on her bed, shirtless? It's my fault she laughed at you and asked if you could continue your fuckery somewhere else?" Isabelle was fuming, but Jace was beyond caring. He glared up at Isabelle, and opened his mouth to shoot something back at her, but Isabelle interrupted. She wasn't finished.

"I suppose," she snarled, her stele coming dangerously close to Jace's skin, "that it's also my fault that you acted like a complete and utter fool in front of her, stuttering and repeating her name like some kind of idiot. Oh, and lets not forget the mundie. It's probably my fault that she left, too." She brought the stele up to his neck, and for a second Jace hesitated, his confidence faltering, before he grabbed her arm and moved it away from him.

"No," he said, jumping off the counter and pushing Isabelle away, "no, that was my fault. But it wouldn't have happened if you had bothered to inform me that it was Clary coming back today. I would off..." Jace trailed off, shaking his heads to clear his thoughts.

All of this was way to fucked up, he decided inwardly as he grabbed onto the counter. Clary was back, and what was worse, she'd seen him in the exact same position as she had when she left. Albeit, a different girl, but still...Of all the ways he'd imagined Clary's return, never had he thought he'd screw up this bad. Jace could picture the amusement in her emerald eyes, and the way she'd asked him to get it on in another room, snorting. She'd then left, grabbing a pair of heels out of her suitcase and muttering something quick to Isabelle...

He turned with a swift motion to his sister.

"Where is she?" His question came out as more of a demand, but Isabelle was taken aback. She shook her head incredulously, some strands of her hair falling out of the updo she had meticulously braided. She tugged at the collar of her dress before answering, a sleek black number that was quite short, even for Isabelle. Her fingers twirled a loose strand of hair as she replied:

"She finished packing and said something about going out for the night to the Pandemonium." Isabelle stared at him for another second, before adding:

"Jace, I think she wanted to be left alone..."

Jace didn't wait to hear the end of Isabelle's sentence. Grabbing Isabelle's discarded stele, he ran out the door and down the stairs, and out the doors of the Institute, only one destination in his mind.

The Pandemonium Club.

**-x-**

Clary felt the pounding of the music in her ear and grinned wickedly, taking a quick sip of her drink before discarding it on the bar and standing up. She made her way through the crowd and onto the dance floor, pulling her hair out of the ponytail it had been in.

Idris didn't have dance clubs, and the combination of loud music and sweat and alcohol made Clary unexplainably happy. She had missed this, she realized as she made her way to the center of the floor, pushing into a large crowd of people. She could feel the adrenaline pulsing through her veins as she moved with the crowd to the beat of the song. Hands flew everywhere - up in the hair, brushing her waist, accidentally bumping her hands - and Clary loved it. Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, jumping, swaying. There was very little room between her and the mass of complete strangers who were dancing up against one another.

Suddenly, Clary felt a pair of hands encircle her waist. For a moment she tensed up, feeling her training come back to her, before she chastised herself inwardly. It was completely normal for strangers to grind up against one another, without asking permission.

Remembering this, Clary willingly let herself go into the rhythmic swaying against the guy's hips, smiling as she went. She grabbed hold of his hands, placing them on either side of her waist, bringing them up and down her sides. She arched her head back onto his shoulder as she felt his hands rub up and down her body, brushing her chest and her stomach. Clary turned to face the man she was dancing with, placing her hands behind his neck as she finally got a look at him.

He was mildly attractive, with shaggy brown hair that fell just above his eyes, and almond-colored eyes. He was grinning at her, and though some of his teeth were slightly crocked, Clary found it an attractive smiled and grinned back at him, pushing her body closer to his. She felt his breath catch as she grinded against his hips, his hands playing with the hem of her shirt. Clary let go of his neck and circled her arms around his waist, bringing him in even closer. She felt a soft groan come from his mouth, and smiled despite herself. She slid one under his shirt, trailing the hard lines of his back with a single finger.

His mouth was positioned beside her ear, she she felt his hot, damp breath as he exhaled sharply, tickling the sensitive hollow right behind her ear. Before she knew what she was doing, turned her head and met his lips with hers, and a fire exploded inside of her. She moved her lips expertly against his, as she continued to trail her hand across his muscular back. Before long, his tongue had slipped up against her mouth, asking for permission. Clary opened her mouth, letting all sense of control vanish from her mind.

**-x-**

Clary was unsure for how long they danced like this. It could've been ten or twenty minutes, it could have been an hour. But suddenly, as suddenly as she had begun dancing, she felt as though she were being watched, as if someone was burning holes into her back. She broke off the kiss, and smiled up at the guy she'd been dancing with. She dropped her hands from his back, and he nodded, letting go of her waist.

"I've gotta go," she explained, flashing him a wicked grin as she traced his sweaty torso through his t-shirt, "but this was nice." He grinned back at her, and nodded, brushing his hair out of his forehead. Clary dropped her arm and waved a cute little goodbye as she pushed out of the crowd, heading for the bathroom. Her heels, short but still deadly, were killing her, and she wished she had brought her boots with her. She tugged a little at the hem of her tank top, and straightened her jeans, glancing behind her. She still had the feeling she was being watched - but she wasn't picking up any demonic traces.

Turning down the corridor towards the bathroom, she quickly pulled her stele out of its holder, concealed in her jeans, and whispered its name.

_"Raziel," _she breathed, and watched as it grew longer and started to glow incandescently in the semi-darkness of the club. It was a unique stele, carved intricately. Its blade was long and silver, with small, hardly distinguishable runes running down its back. Its grip was molded perfectly to Clary's fingers, and had a pattern of stars carved into its leather. Clary flattened herself up against the wall as she heard soft footsteps following her. She crouched slightly, ready to pounce, as she saw a very faint shadow against the green and blue lights of the hallway. Counting down the steps, Clary prepared herself.

The first thing that came by the corridor was a leg, then a torso. Before she registered anything else, Clary jumped, grabbing her follower's arms and clasping them behind his back. With her other hand she placed the stele at his throat, kicking the door to one of the bathrooms open. She felt her follower shift his weight, and prepared herself for what she knew was coming. He tried to ram her into the wall, but she was too quick. In a flash, she had flipped positions so that his face had been smashed up against the wall. He let out a cry of disbelief, accompagnied with a plea:

"Clary!"

She stopped mid-pounce, her blade still around his neck, as she stood, frozen. She recognized that low, scratchy, husky voice. Quickly she spun, letting go of his hands, and carved a quick rune into one of the walls. It started to glow, and quickly it illuminated the room with a sharp light, replacing the darkness and the green-blue hues coming from outside the corridor.

"Jace?" she asked the figure who was now leaning against the wall, one hand clutching his nose. She recognized the disarray of blond curls that sat atop his head, and the hard lines of his jawbone. "Oh, my god," she breathed again, shaking her head out as she took a step towards him. Picking up her stele, she lightly carved a healing rune - an Iratze - against the side of his neck. She grabbed his upper arm and hoisted him up so he was standing. Removing his hand from his nose, Clary began inspecting the damage she'd caused.

"Clary," Jace said, and it came out as an incredulous whisper, "what the hell was that about?" Clary sighed as she moved away from his nose, and narrowed her eyes at him.

"I could ask you the same thing, Herondale. How the hell did you know I was here?" Jace shook his head, a look of pure confusion etched across his features. He shook his head again, regained his composure and straightened himself out. His clothes were slightly crumpled, his t-shirt had a little blood stain which had come from his broken nose. Clary glared at him the whole while until he answered her.

"Isabelle told me," he said, one hand tracing his jawbone, searching for bruises or cuts. "But Angel, Clary, why'd you attack me?"

It was Clary's turn to shake her head, before she walked over to the wall and slashed a long line down the center of the rune she'd carved, throwing the corridor back into darkness.

"I felt something following me," she said pointedly, fixing her hair back into a ponytail, "so I attacked." She shrugged and made to leave, but Jace's hand reached out and grabbed her arm, immobilizing her.

"What rune was that?" he asked, pointing to the wall opposite him. Clary glanced over his shoulder before shrugging again. She saw the circle she'd drawn with the outline of an eye in the center, and the long line that had carved the eye so it looked closed, and no longer open. She glanced down at his hand, that was still on her arm, and frowned.

"First," she said, with a hint of venom to her voice, "let go of me, and don't you _ever_ grab me like that again" Jace looked down at his hand before letting it go. Clary sighed.

"The first rune was a rune I've made, called _Light_. The second was its companion, called _Dark._ The Clave's recognized both of them, as well as a bunch of others I've used." She shrugged again, marking her indifference, before adding, "Can I go now? I'm tired, and I've got to work tomorrow."

Jace was still starring at the rune she'd carved. He nodded absentmindedly, and said,

"I'll walk you home." _Walk me home? _Clary thought, letting out a snort. _As if I couldn't take care of myself. _She was about to protest when she saw Jace's expression, and realized it wasn't really an offer he was making.

It was a demand.

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><p><strong>Yay second chapter up :)<strong>

**Actually this was supposed to be the second and third chapter, but they were a little short on their own so I meshed them together. **

**disclaimer:**** cassandra clare's. I'm just borrowing :)**

**note:**** I got an inbox wondering if this was going to be 100% Clary's POV. As you can tell from the beginning of this chapter...no? :) I'm going to have Jace/Clary switch off because I want to compare how Clary sees herself with how Jace sees Clary. Since she's changed so much and all. **

**I was also asked if this is a Jace/Clary love story, and the answer is...maybe, maybe not :) But it's definitely not 100% love story, its going to have an actual plot. So kind of like the original Mortal Instruments books? Sorry, I'm not really good at explaining things...**

**And lastly, I skipped the part where Clary walks in on Jace/mundie girl because I'll be doing it later... :)**

**leave a review :)**


	3. meeting

**chapter 3; meeting**

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><p>Jace pushed upon the back door of the Pandemonium Club and smiled slightly at the contact of the cool, September air of downtown Manhattan. He shook the sweat out of his hair and used the back of his hand to wipe his nose and jaw of residue blood from Clary's attack.<p>

He was still in shock. He had only come to the club to talk to Clary, to try to understand what had happened and why she had acted so differently at the Institute. He could still remember the scene in the guest room, could still remember the amusement in her eyes. He'd noticed her outfits, so different than they had been a while ago. He blinked as memories of the scene flashed through his eyes. He could picture so much, yet so little at the same time...

_Clary's hilarity as Jace fumbled awkwardly for his shirt._

_Isabelle's blatant disbelief strewn across his face, replaced quickly with a murderous expression._

_Clary's soft leather boots as they came off with a thump. _

_The mundane's shocked, embarrassed expression._

_Clary's unruly, untidy hair that had been pulled up behind her ears by a pair of metal aviator sunglasses._

_Clary's face._

_Clary's eyes._

_Clary -_

The fiery red head behind him coughed, and Jace moved awkwardly out of the doorway, gesturing with his hands for her to follow through. Her emerald eyes watched him suspiciously as she took short, but confident steps into the city. The faint glow of neon lights didn't do her skin justice, Jace thought as she brushed past him. Her skin, pale in the bright lights of Manhattan, almost radiated strength and beauty under the black sky. Clary caught him looking, and Jace quickly spun around and shut the door silently, the hint of the blush still on his cheeks.

Clary coughed again, and Jace found himself asking:

"Are you cold?"

Clary shot him a look that Jace couldn't quite decipher, a mixture of anger and confusion and confidence and something...else. She eyed him expectantly as she ignored his question and asked instead:

"Want to tell me why you were stalking me?"

Her harsh tone surprised Jace, and he blinked. Her hands, that had once upon time been soft, now calloused and scared with runes, were resting on her hips, and her head was cocked to the side. She wouldn't take a bullshit answer, Jace knew, and he mentally slapped himself for not having listened to Isabelle when she'd warned him not to bother Clary.

"I wanted to talk to you," he said, surprised at how confident his voice sounded. "I didn't really get a chance to talk to you before, and I didn't think it would be fair to deny you the magnificence of my presence." He flashed her his signature cocky grin, gesturing down at himself, and for an instant Jace was reassured his arrogant-confident self was still present. The look Clary gave him silenced his momentary joy, almost glaring at him before she snapped her head away from him and began walking down the back parking lot and onto the sidewalk of busy West 34th street. Jace paused for a moment before taking long, springing strides to catch up to her.

She crossed her arms over her chest and snorted as he caught up to her.

"So, what was his name?" Jace asked, trying to change the topic, and thinking of the mundane boy he'd watched Clary dance with. He usually felt, in these kind of situations, that he intimidated or angered girls, but with Clary, this wasn't the case. She acted almost as though she were indifferent, and that sent Jace off the edge, tumbling into uncharted oblivion as he tried to hold onto, and inevitably lost, all sense of control. She hadn't been like this before, he had noted, and somehow in three years in Idris she'd become a completely different person. Jace still hadn't decided if he liked this or not.

She snorted again.

"What was _her_ name?" she deadpanned, and Jace couldn't help but wince inwardly as he recalled the scene in Clary's room with a dull pain in his mind. Outwardly, he flashed another cocky smile.

"Touché," he said, shaking his hair before continuing. "I never pegged you for that kind of girl, Fray," he said amicably, letting amusement creep into his voice so that she knew he was teasing. She smiled wickedly before dropping her hands into her pockets, shaking her hair out a little.

"Mmmh," she said, her emerald eyes glittering in amusement, "I never had a reason to when I knew you. Then again, if I'd known what I was missing out on..."

Jace shot her a look of mock-horror as he registered her last insult. On a subconscious level, the dull pain returned, replaying her sentence in his mind like a broken record. _I never had a reason to when I knew you. I never had a reason to when I knew you. I never had a reason to when I knew you. _He saw the mundame boy's hands on her hips, her soft lips on his. _I never had a reason to when I knew you._ Outwardly, he scoffed and changed the topic, trying to disperse the turmoil boiling up inside him.

"So what brings you back to New York City?" he asked, grinning down at her as he spread his arms wide and gestured around him to the flashing lights and jumble of people. "Did you miss my irresistible good looks? My perfect smile? My awesome hair?"

Clary shot him another of those looks Jace couldn't quite decipher, before she looked him up and down and smirked.

"Nope, sorry, that can't be it," she said, her eyes twinkling with amusement again, but shinning a little duller this time. Jace recognized the dull expression, it was something he'd seen before, when she wasn't being completely continued, looking away.

"I finished my training with the Clave a year ago," she explained, tugging on the hem of her tight, form-fitting tank top, "but I stayed in Idris for a while. Then I got a reconnaissance mission from the Clave here, and so I came. As soon as this is over, they've got something else...But I want to travel a little." The last part had been added as an afterthought, but Jace noted the uncertainty in her voice.

"Since when are you a Clave agent?" he asked, curious and slightly reproachful at the same time. He hoped the latter wouldn't show, but he couldn't deny that he was slightly jealous of Clary's sudden attachment with the Clave. He still couldn't bring himself to trust them, not after Valentine. And yet...

Clary looked up at him, and for a half a second Jace thought he saw fear register in her eyes. It was gone quickly and replaced with a look of indifference that had become all to common in Clary's features.

"Since they trained me," she retorted, her voice dripping in obviousness as they turned the corner, the Institute now in sight. "Besides, they like my rune abilities. I'm going to write a book for them with new runes in it in a year or two, after I - "

Clary trailed off abruptly, glancing away from the Institute and to the cement sidewalk in front of her. Jace, his curiosity spiked, asked despite himself:

"After what?"

Clary looked up from the side walk and stared into Jace's eyes, indecision etched across her features. Jace found himself stopping at the same time she did, confused and curious. Her eyes flickered and danced under the light of a nearby lampshade, and suddenly she grinned, the white of her teeth gleaming brightly.

"After I beat your sorry ass back to the Institute," she said finally, taking off in a sprint as she left Jace standing, confused, in her dust.

**-x-**

_Clarissa Morgenstern._

Clary's eyes shot open in the dark, a light layer of sweat on her forehead. She sat up quickly in her bed, pulling the covers off her barely covered body. She set a tentative foot on the floor as she felt the soft carpet brush her toes. Gliding off the bed, she found herself in a half-kneeling position, her eyes shut. She furrowed her eyebrows in concentration, her voice a little hoarse as she whispered into the darkness:

"Raziel?"

The effect was instantaneous.

Lights flickered behind her closed eyelids, a blur of light and darkness and colour exploded in her mind. Clary saw a blinding light of white, followed by a dulling covering of grey as the face of the Angel she had grown to know appeared in front of her kneeling body. His eyes blinked once, twice, before he finally spoke, a melodious string of words that emerged inside her head.

_My child, _he spoke softly, and Clary felt herself shiver unconsciously. _It is time you learnt what power lies behind your lids. Do you understand me?_

Her eyebrows furrowed themselves deeper as she whispered, confused:

"I - no. What power?" In her head, the angel's face remained unchanged, no sign of emotion showing. His eyes were as black and impenetrable as ever, and yet Clary felt she could see the very slightest revelation of pity, of love at the very bottom of the pool of black that were the Angel Raziel's pupils.

_Do you remember last time I communicated with you, child? _Raziel's melodious voice spoke again, and Clary nodded, almost indiscernibly, her eyes still sealed shut. _I told you to come to New York, to leave Idris. Why did you listen?_

Clary frowned again, her mouth pulled into a hard line. "Because I follow your guidance," she answered finally, her mouth relaxed, "and trust your wisdom. Whatever you ask of me, my Angel, I will comply." It was the truth, Clary knew, for she could never lie to Raziel. He could read her like an open book, and she trusted him completely.

His face remained impassive, as cold and void as stone.

_And you have done so, child. There will come a time when I will ask you to make a choice, Clarissa, daughter of the morning star. But for now, I only seek to help you, to guide you, so when you must make the choice, you will be ready. _Clary nodded again, still not completely sure of the direction Raziel was taking.

_Keep your eyes closed, _he instructed her, and Clary shut them even tighter. _Now tell me, what colours do you see? Take those colours, Clarissa, and mold them, shape them into whatever shape you wish. Then, and only when you have a perfect object assembled in your mind, may you open your eyes._

Suddenly, Raziel's face disapeared from her mind, and Clary found herself seeing darkness and the familiar, faint colours that she often saw when she closed her eyes after looking into a bright light. _Mold them_, the Angel had said, and so Clary tried, in vain, to mold them into a square. She sat for the better part of an hour, watching different colours come and go, becoming fainter and fainter, and trying without avail to shape them, to move them.

Suddenly, just as she was about to give up, Clary felt a pull at the back at her mind, and saw one of the shapes jerk, ever so slightly, to the left. She tried the pull again, and the shape moved again, a little more pronouncedly. Clary visualized the shape, attached to a piece of string like a puppet, and tugged again, this time to the right. The piece moved all the way over, until Clary mentally 'dropped' the string. For over fifteen minutes she moved, pulled, tugged, and cursed as she assembled what she believed resembled a small notebook, strewn together from various pieces of mental-image-light-shape things.

Holding the picture there for a moment, she proceeded to open her eyes as Raziel had instructed. The room, that had seemed so dark when she'd first woken up, now felt lighter, and Clary had to blink several times before she adjusted to it. Gazing around her, Clary confusedly wondered what had happened with her book-vision, and why it had been necessary.

Suddenly, just as suddenly as she had felt the pull in the back of her mind, Clary felt her fingers tingle lightly, as though a cool wind was brushing over her. Clary glanced down at her fingers idly sitting on her lap, and she couldn't help but stare. She couldn't help but stare at the object that had materialized itself out of thin air and had appeared in her hands.

The book. The leather, soft, supple notebook she'd pictured and assembled in her mind, was somehow in between her fingers, concrete and real. She was brought out of her revery when a loud voice exclaimed, incredulous:

"What the _fuck?_"

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><p><strong>yay third chapter up :)<strong>

**note:**** I understand this last bit was a bit confusing, but I'll clear it up a little in the next chapter I promise :) Also, some people told me I should get a beta...Not to be a newb or anything, but what's a beta? :S apologies...Also, I'll try to update asap, but no promises :) this chapter is 2,302 words long! :)**

**disclaimer:**** officially disclaimed**

**hopefully you all like it? :) review!**


	4. promises

**chapter 4; promises**

* * *

><p>Jace couldn't contain the cry of bewilderment that escaped his mouth when he saw a book materialize itself <em>out of thin air<em> and into Clary's hands.

He'd been roaming the corridors, not being able to sleep, and had been walking past Clary's room when he heard muttering. Pushing open the door a crack, he found Clary kneeling on the floor and whispering to herself. At first, Jace thought she'd gone crazy, then he considered some sort of voodoo ritual, before settling for possible witchcraft. Confused and tired, he decided to ask her about it the next morning, and had turned to leave when he heard Clary whisper the Angel's name:

_"Raziel."_

Jace froze in his tracks. As he turned, he noticed he wasn't the only one who had recognized the name: Clary's stele had lit up and elongated itself on her nightstand. Except that was impossible, because steles were issued by the Clave, and the Clave refused to use Raziel's name for weapons. He had frowned some more, but stayed put for the better part of an hour, fascinated by the glowing dagger and Clary's concentrated face. _What is she thinking about?_ Jace had wondered, but this thought was quickly dismissed when Clary opened her eyes.

At first she looked confused, dazed, and bewildered, and she'd looked around the room as if she were looking for something.

And then a fucking book appeared out of fucking nowhere into Clary's hands.

"What the _fuck?_" was what came out, and though it wasn't necessarily the best way to say "_Hi, Clary, I noticed you were muttering so I opened your door and heard you say the Angel's name, at which point your dagger lit up, and I'm really sorry to have infringed your privacy but would you mind explaining to me how that book just appeared out of nowhere and into your hands, and how you have a dagger that recognizes Raziel's name?", _but given the circumstances it would have to do.

Clary stared up at him for a moment, a confused expression on her face. Her emerald eyes were barely discernible in the darkness, yet Jace could tell they were glazed over. Her hair had fallen limp on her head, and for an instant she looked like the Clary he had once known, with a confused and distant expression in her eyes, insecure and lost. Then it was gone, replaced with an exhausted expression that was soft and hard at the same time. She noiselessly got up and dropped the book on her bedside table.

"What are you doing here, Jace?" she sighed, turning away from him as she opened her closet. She pulled on a black spandex sweater over her tank-top and pajama shorts, an pulled her hair back into a pony tail. Jace shook his head and ignored her question, his eyes still on her notebook.

"How the heck did that just happen?" He asked, incredulous, as he gestured from the notebook, to Clary, and back to the notebook. "That did not just happen. Tell me that did not just happen!"

Clary shot him a wary look from over her shoulder as she grabbed a pair of running sneakers from her closet, shutting the big oak doors. She quickly pulled them on and tied the laces, as Jace continued to stare at the notebook, flabbergasted.

"I'll see you later, Jace," she said finally, pushing past him and opening the door. She paused, and turned around to shoot him a glare."From now on, if you could refrain from breaking into my room late at night, that'd be greatly appreciated."

She then exited the room, out into the hallway, and Jace found himself starring blankly into an empty room for a minute or so before he ran out of the doors, in hot pursuit of the fiery redhead who had some _major_ explaining to do.

**-x-**

It was late, or maybe it was really early in the morning, but Clary didn't care - all she knew was that it was nighttime. As she pushed open the heavy doors of the institute and sprang out into the night, she could only think of one thing: getting as far away from Jace.

She knew when she first arrived in New York that hiding her secrets would be difficult. She knew she'd have to come up with some sort of excuse, something better than "I'm here on a reconnaissance mission from the Clave!". Simon had bought it up willingly enough, but that hadn't made Clary any happier. Simon had always been able to read her like an open book, and the thought that she had become so used to lying that she'd got it passed her best friend hurt immensely. What was worse, Clary hated lying, even if she'd become relatively good at it. She definitely hadn't expected it to be so hard with Jace.

She thought he wouldn't have changed in three years since she last saw him, and at first his actions had confirmed her suspicions. Only Jace would be stupid and egocentric enough to fondle another girl in Clary's new bed. And yet...

Her mind flew back to her conversation with Jace earlier in the evening, when he had walked back with her to the Institute. She'd never, ever found Jace a particularly easy person to talk to, even back when they were dating. She'd always had to think about what she was saying, and how she was going to say it. But last night was different. It was almost as though her mouth was talking without the help of her mind.

_"Besides, they like my rune abilities. I'm going to write a book for them with new runes in it in a year or two, after I -"_

Clary's feet accelerated almost of their own accord, as if Clary's body was trying to outrun the unwanted memory that had surged into her mind. Her sneakers pounded the asphalt as she pushed herself harder.

She couldn't _believe_ she had almost told him about her job, her duty to Raziel. She definitely had not trained and lied for this long to have everything fall apart because of Jace. It wasn't that she loved him, or was even attracted to him, it was just that he was so good damn easy to talk to, and that scared her. She didn't think she could face him right now, not without divulging everything she had worked so hard to keep a secret.

Clary heard heavy footsteps behind her as her name was called out:

"Clary!"

She gasped involuntarily and took off sprinting, sweat forming on her barely clad body. She had to think, and fast. She was quick on her feet, she knew that, but Jace was faster. She had a good 100m lead on him, but he would catch up to her soon. _Oh god, oh god, oh god..._

Her eyes zeroed in on a fire-escape that lead up to the roof of an old townhouse. No lights were on inside. In her mind, something clicked, and Clary deviated from the sidewalk, grabbing hold of the banister and hoisting herself up on the stairs. She ran up, three stairs at a time, climbing up the three floors until she reached the roof.

She glanced behind her and saw Jace grab onto the same banister as she had. He was quick, she had to give him that, but she could do something he couldn't. Taking off full speed, she heard the stairs creak as Jace jumped off the railing and landed on the roof. The edge of the building was fast approaching, and Clary mentally counted down the steps till she reached the end of the roof. _Five. Four. Three. Two. One._

On the last step Clary pushed her left leg up in the air as far as it would go, and swung her right foot higher. She found herself soaring over the three-meter gap between the first and second building, her knees bent forward, her back bent over, her arms outstretched as though trying to touch her toes. Time seemed to slowm down as she focused on her landing spot, a clear patch of gravel beside another fire escape. Again, she counted down. _Three. Two. One._

She landed with a loud thud on the ground, her arms outstretched, bracing the fall, and she rolled over as she swiveled to face Jace. For a moment, she locked eyes with him. Then, without a second to lose, she sprang up and over the fire escape, landing on the second-floor landing and taking off down the stairs and onto the street.

She paused to catch her breath, opening her sweater and taking it off, tying it around her waist. She wiped her knees that were now scratched and red from her landing. Taking a deep breath, she began to run again, heading down the busy road, passing shops and partygoers.

Out of the corner of her eye she spotted a small, but open café, and stopped. Pushing open the brightly lit store, she walked in and ordered a coffee, pulling the sweater around her shoulders. The waitress looked at her sweaty and scratched appearance and raised an eyebrow, pouring her a glass of black coffee. Clary sighed as she grabbed the mug between her hands.

_God,_ she thought, taking a sip of the black liquid, _what have I gotten myself into?_

Closing her eyes, she savored the bitter drink as it rolled off her tongue and down her throat. She didn't see the man in the corner of the room, eyeing her with a peculiar and calculating. She didn't see as he opened his phone as spoke a quiet two sentences into the phone either, his mouth twitching, but she did hear him, his voice a slight murmur in the back of her mind.

_"Get to the Black Café, Allan street. I found a shadowhunter without a weapon."_

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><p><strong>yay fourth chapter :)<strong>

**so Allan street is real, its in New York...I made up the café, though :S**

**disclaimer****: officially disclaimed, the character/original story isn't mine, but Cassandra Clare's :)**

**note: I know I said I'd explain the closed-eye light/colour thing next chapter, but the chapter was so long so I cut it in three. So it's not going to be the next chapter, but the one after that :( Sorry. I'll update the next two soon, maybe even later today if I have the time, because next week I'm probably going to be really busy. Actually, I'm trying to update as much as I can now because I have an easy week today, but that's not going to be the case soon and...**

**Yeah :)**

**review? **


	5. promises 2

**chapter 5; promises (2)**

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><p>Clary's eyes shot open, and she blinked rapidly, swallowing the last gulp of her coffee. She zipped her sweater up, her hands trembling ever so slightly. Dropping change on the counter for the coffee, she slowly but decidedly walked towards the door, trying to keep calm. She heard the man - although she was coming to believe he wasn't really a man - stand up behind her, and his voice rang through her head, as clear as glass:<p>

_"I found a shadowhunter girl with no weapons."_

She cursed at herself inwardly as she pushed open the door and stepped out of the small café, turning right and walking speedily down the road. How could she have been so stupid so as to have forgotten her stele? She never went anywhere without it, for god's sake! She could visualize it, sitting on her nightstand in her room in the Institute, probably still glowing from when she'd said Raziel's name. Peering stealthily over her shoulder, she noticed the man a couple of steps behind her, his phone pressed to his ear again. She sped up, trying to keep calm.

How far away was the Institute? She calculated about half a kilometer in her mind, and cringed. She could run, but that would give her away. Then he'd know for sure she'd heard him. She could climb onto the roof again - but if he was a demon as she suspected he was, that wouldn't stop him. She only had one choice, she realized: walk fast and pretend as though she hadn't heard him.

She turned the block and saw, far away in the distance, the broken cross of the Institute looming over the other buildings. She couldn't make it, she realized with a pang. Whoever the man had called, they would be here soon.

She searched frantically around herself for a weapon, as she rapidly dodged pedestrians. She looked in the pocket of her sweater and found some left over change from her coffee. Breathing rapidly, adrenaline and fear searing through her body, she pressed three quarters into the cracks between her fingers, forming a make-shift brass knuckle as she clenched her fingers together. She took another stealthy glance behind her shoulder, and fear shot through her body.

The man had found whoever it was that he was calling, and was now flanked by two strong looking men, on either side, and one behind him. They were walking swiftly, a little to heavily for usual humans. As they turned the corner, Clary saw a glimmer against on of the man's legs.

_Omigod,_ Clary thought to herself, willing her body to calm down, _he has a knife._

Suddenly a hand shot out from the darkness and grabbed her into an alleyway between two brick buildings. Clary couldn't help the surprised, pained cry that escaped her lips, and the death grip on her arm tightened. A cold, husky, menacing voice threatened in her ear:

_"Silence, Clarissa Morgernstern,"_ her assaulter said, his voice rigging in her ear as she felt her arm tingle from lack of circulation. The three men that had been following her appeared in the entrance of the alleyway and stood, shoulder to shoulder, barricading the exit. The middle man, the one who had spotted her at the café, grinned an inhuman grin as he stared down at her. Clary noticed his slick, black hair and his crisp shirt, and frowned. He cleaned up nicely, which wasn't usually proper demon attire.

"Well, well, well," he said, his voice just as sinister as the first. "What do we have here?" He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying himself. Clary shot him an annoyed look as she struggled against her assaulter's grip.

"Why do they always say that?" She wondered out loud, sarcasm and anger dripping from her voice. Still, she couldn't keep the pain from her voice entirely. "They always say that in the movies, and honestly, if I'm going to die, I'd rather be killed by someone more original.'Well, well, well' is _so _overdone." She knew she shouldn't have said that, but her mouth moved of its own accord as she fought against her restrainer.

The man in the middle flashed another ruthless grin as he flicked his wrist, holding onto his crease-less cuff as he wriggled his arm back and forth. The men on either side of him didn't smile, but she saw their eyes dancing in what she understood to be amusement. Creepy, disturbing, sadistic amusement. Clary felt her body tense.

"Yes, well," the man behind her said, his voice trickling down her ear and sending a shiver of cold and fear through her body, "we aren't really giving you a choice."

Another grin on the face of the man in the middle. Clary was beginning to think he might be mad. Who grins when they're about to kill someone?

"Quite well observed, Mathias," he said, his voice calm and joyful. Clary grimaced. "You don't have a weapon, Shadowhunter Morgenstern. Do you realize this?" He leaned forward, his nose inches away from her face. Clary took this opportunity and brought her fist with the coins squished between her fingers up to his face, and twisted her arm as she felt her hand connect with his jaw.

In one swift move, she was free from her assaulter's grip, and she leapt for the window of the building beside her. Her feet landed on the sill and she used her arms to hoist herself up to the next window, throwing her legs over her. She heard the demon cry out in pain and realized barely a second has passed. _I'm getting better at this_, she thought as she reached the gutter with one hand and hoisted herself up on the roof. With trembling, yet determined feet she took off against the soft concrete of the rooftop, and prepared herself for another jump. She was only two feet away from the edge of the roof when her arm got pulled back, almost wrenching it from its socket. Clary fell backwards from the momentum and collided with a hard body, feeling a pair of arms restrain her.

Slowly she was turned away from the roof ledge and she faced a blood covered man who was clutching his jaw. To Clary's surprise, her attacker didn't seem very angry. In fact, his eyes were dancing with amusement. He nodded his head, once, and Clary barely had time to glance back to her assaulter before his fist connected with the base of her head.

She cried out in pain, as she fell to the floor, her arms pinned behind her back. She saw the concrete flooring of the roof blur, her head spinning from the impact. She closed her eyes tightly, trying to regain control over her mind that was currently being numbed by pain. _Focus, Clary, _she thought, and winced as a fresh wave of pain soared through her mind.

_"Clary!"_

Her hearing was muddled, but nonetheless she glanced up in shock when she heard her name shouted. The tight grip her assailant - Mathias, he had been called - loosened, and she took advantage of his momentary confusion. Wrenching her arms from his grasp, she rolled away from him and hoisted herself up on her knees, her hands supporting her. Her vision was worsening - she could barely make out large shadows against the blur of the city in the background. _Focus,_ she reminded herself.

She tried to stand up but failed, her knees weak, her muscles uncoordinated. Cursing under her breath, Clary began to crawl along the concrete surface of the roof, her hands patting around her as she searched, almost blindly, for a weapon. Her hands found an empty beer bottle, slightly sticky to the touch, and she smiled weakly, but victoriously, as she clutched the bottle's throat.

Behind her, to her left, she could make out what seemed to be grunts and cries. Slowly, she turned on her knees, and glanced over her shoulder as she tried to understand what had just happened. She was disappointed. Her vision was worse than ever, and all she could make out was the faint outline of blurry shadows swinging around one another. She could feel her head pulsing, pain shooting knives through her mind every second. _I have to get out of here,_ she thought somewhat coherently, and her eyes searched the perimeter of the building's rooftop.

She thought she saw a very, very faint outline of a staircase, a couple of meters to her right. Slowly, deliberately, she started to crawl, her limbs moving out of sink, her head hurting. Her grip tightened ferociously around the throat of the beer bottle as she heard footsteps, but she continued to crawl, counting down the distance in her head. _Four meters. Three meters. Two meters - _

"Clary!"

There it was again, that voice that had disturbed Mathias' grip and allowed her to get free. She could only suspect that the owner of the voice had been fighting her assaulters, but her head reminded her of her training. _Don't let down your guard until you know that you're safe. _She couldn't know for certain who this person was, and so she couldn't trust them. Furiously, she reassumed her crawl towards the stairs, and her hand reached out into the blurry unknown, connecting with something metal.

Only it wasn't the stair case, as she'd assumed. It was the satellite antenna of the house.

Drained of much of her energy, and feeling her consciousness slip, Clary tightened her grip on the beer bottle. She discerned footsteps approaching her at a fast pace, and felt a hand reach out over her waist. Clary froze for a second, understanding that she had been right not to trust the owner of the voice. Whoever it was, they were trying to restrain her. With one, somewhat swift motion, Clary brought her hand over her head and smashed the beer bottle into the person's body.

Then darkness claimed her, and she fell into oblivion as peacefully as a feather falls through the air.

**-x-**

Jace starred down at Clary's limp body, strewn across the Institute's infirmary beds like a puppet without strings.

Her hair was matted with blood, her forehead severely bruised. On her skin, faint Iratzes were glowing amongst the healing scars and cuts and bruises. Her eyelids were heavily closed, and her lips were pulled into an unpleasant, yet peaceful grimace. She made no noises.

Reaching out with a wet cloth, Jace began to wipe away the dried blood from her hair. It came off it hard clumps, and Jace noted with satisfaction that the wound on the crown of her head had heeled, although leaving discoloring and bruising behind. Behind him, Alec sighed resignedly.

"Are you going to tell me what happened, or do I need to force the information out of you?" he asked bitterly, his hands twisted together. This was always a sign that Alec was worried, and as Jace quickly glanced over his shoulder he noted and anxious yet determined expression plastered all over Alec's features. His lips were mashed, his brow slightly furrowed, and his eyes twitched ever so slightly.

He sighed. "I don't really know what's going on, to be honest. She arrived Tuesday, and she told Izzy and I that she was here on business for the Clave." He trailed, not knowing how to go about the next thing that had happened - namely, that Clary had somehow developed magic powers and now had the ability to conjure objects out of thin air.

Alec interrupted his indecisiveness. "Isabelle told me what happened when she first arrived," he said, and Jace detected the slightest hint of rueful amusement in his voice. "I mean, really, Jace? It wasn't enough to do that once? Oh, wait, obviously not, because you went ahead and fucked some random mundie girl on her bed, again."

Jace shot him an annoyed look over his shoulder as he continued to untangle Clary's hair and remove the dried blood. Alec chose to ignore it as he continued on.

"Isabelle also mentioned the way Clary took it, although she didn't elaborate much...I guess she changed considerably, huh?"

Jace's hands balled into fists as he dropped the cloth beside Clary's head, and he saw red as the scene flashed through his eyes for what had to be the one-hundredth time that day.

_xx_

_He was lying on the guestroom's bed, his hand under Rose's shirt, his mouth at her ear, muttering sensual nothings as a suitcase had fallen beside him, crushing his leg. He'd let out a small yelp, and had jumped up, off the bed. He stared down at a girl with fiery red hair who was opening her suitcase as if it were the most natural thing to do. He had then noticed Isabelle standing in the doorway, shooting him an what he understood as an appalled and reproachful glare._

_Her red hair was messy, loose ends flying here and there. Aviator sunglasses sat, perched on the crown of her head. She was smirking, her green eyes twinkling in amusement as she straightened up and surveyed the room._

_"Clary?" Jace asked, completely flabbergasted. It __couldn't__ be Clary, this girl looked so...different. She was wearing a black leather jacket that hugged her petite frame and tight, dark-wash skinny jeans. She had soft, supple leather boots on that were designed for combat. Only her neck and head were showing, but it was enough to indicate the presence of faded runes and battle scars. Around her neck hung a simple silver chain - the same one, Jace had realized with a pang, that had once held the Morgerstern ring he had once given her. _

_He stared at her face a little more intensely. She was still smirking as she turned her back to him._

_"Who the hell - " Rose had started to ask, but she'd been interrupted by a question from Clary._

_"Is this mine?" she had asked, gesturing towards the closet and the desk sitting at the other end of her room. The closet, Jace had noticed, was rather large. It had doors that were made out of simple oak, a geometric pattern composed of triangles and squares carved into their border. The desk sat at the far side of the room, made of the same wood as the closet doors, and holding a small sized monitor and system unit for what he supposed was a functional computer. Isabelle had nodded, confused, as she had continued to stare at Jace, who had now gone back to staring at Clary. The red-head then nodded, satisfied, and started to unpack._

_Jace looked down at the girl who had pulled up a pile of t-shirts from her suitcase. Yes, without a doubt..._

_"Clary?" Jace asked again, this time more of a demand. What was she doing here? She'd been gone three, almost four years. Why...? Clary snapped her head up from her suitcase, and smirked again._

_"Hi, Jace. Please, don't let me interrupt your fun. The room next to this one is unoccupied, if you'd like. I'm afraid this one's mine, and I'd rather sleep in clean sheets tonight."_

_Jace had shaken his head, trying to rid his mind of all the confusion and surplus of emotions running haywire in his mind._

_"I - what are you doing here?" Again, his question had come out as more of a demand then a question, and he noticed a flicker of annoyance flash through Clary's green eyes as she continued to stare at him. Jace had gulped, involuntarily, shaking his hair out of his eyes._

_"You mean, what am I doing here, in this room?" She had asked, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. "Or what am I doing here, in New York?" _

_Rose had grabbed her sweater and had pulled it over her head. Her eyes searched Jace's face for a moment, looking for the arrogant, cocky boy who'd brought her here. Jace swallowed ever so slightly. "Well, both, I guess," he muttered as Rose pulled her shoes on and shot him a reproachful glare. Marching decidedly out of the room, she threw a "Don't bother to call me," and disappeared out of the hallway. Clary smirked again._

_"Well, this has been fun," she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice. She shrugged her leather jacket off and grabbed a pair of tight shorts and heels out of her suitcase. She smiled sweetly at Isabelle as she passed her, and leaned down to whisper in her ear. Shooting Jace one last, bemused look, she followed after Rose, leaving an angry Isabelle and a confused and distraught Jace behind._

_xx_

"If you aren't going to tell me about your first encounter for three years, then at least explain to me why she went running off into New York City at two in the morning with you in hot pursuit."

Jace's mind snapped out of his reverie as he glanced back at Alec's concerned expression.

"I can't exactly tell you that, Alec," he started, his mind searching furiously for an excuse, "because I'm not quite sure what happened myself. I found Clary awake in her room, I was confused about some things and I asked her to clarify. Instead she bolted out the door and went for a run." Jace paused. "I didn't react fast enough, because by the time I got out there she was gone and I couldn't find her." _Lie._ "So I searched around a little bit and I was heading back to the Institute when I heard someone scream. And so I found her, restrained by three demons, and I saved her."

Alec looked at him, and Jace could tell he didn't believe him.

"What were you confused about?" he finally asked, and Jace shrugged as he glanced back at Clary's dormant figure, ignoring his brother's questions. Alec sighed resignedly and stood up, stretching his hands out above his head.

"I'm going to leave you and go find Magnus," he stated simply, pulling his sweater of his chair. "Tell us as soon as she wakes up, okay?"

Jace nodded briefly, his eyes returning to Clary's body as she noticed a slight twitch in arm. She was starting to move, which was a good sign, but Jace was worried. He'd witnessed the hit she'd received to the head, and though Magnus assured him that the Iratze would cure the concussion, he still wasn't sure if she was more gravely injured than the warlock thought.

Lost in his contemplations, Jace almost missed Clary's eyelids flutter. He stared at her face for a little longer, and when the second stir came, he shook her arms gently and whispered:

"Clary? Can you hear me? Wake up."

Jace waited another minute or so before her eyes slowly opened, looking even greener than usual in the white lighting of the Infirmary. She stared up at Jace for a couple of seconds, and Jace grinned slightly as she frowned.

"Good, you're awake," he said, placing his hand against her forehead as he checked for any signs of a fever. "You owe me some answers."

* * *

><p><strong>Yay fifth chapter :)<strong>

**I'm so sorry it took more than a week to update, but I did warn you guys I'd be stupendously busy...**

**Anyways, this chapter was super duper long to make up for it :) approximately 3,400 words :)**

**Please review and tell me if you liked it :)**

**The next one should be up rather quickly, although I can't guarantee it...But before next weekend? I'll try, I promise :)**


	6. promises 3

**chapter 6: promises (3)**

* * *

><p>Clary blinked up at the grinning face of Jace Wayland fo a solid minute, trying to become aware of her surroundings.<p>

On Jace's left, she noticed clean white walls and cold-blue cabinets. A desk stood a little off to the side, covered in papers and an array of containers with a variety of plants growing in them. Above her, a pale-white light was flickering ever so slightly. Clary shut her eyes tightly, overwhelmed with the sudden brightness. _The infirmary,_ she thought. _I'm in the infirmary._

Her head felt as though a ton of bricks had fallen onto it - that is to say, extremely painful and bruised. Her eyelids felt heavy, and her mouth dry. Her hair felt greasy, dirty, and wet, and every limb in her body felt heavy and disembodied from her core. She wondered idly how long she'd been asleep for, and how it was that she had landed in this particular situation.

"Good, you're awake."

Jace's voice brought her out of her idle contemplations and she opened her eyes once again, blinking once or twice due to the brightness. Jace was sporting his signature cocky grin, and was leaning over her in a slightly intimidating, yet familiar, manner. Clary groaned inwardly, waiting for what she knew was coming.

"You owe me some answers," he continued, before straightening up and getting out of his seat. He grabbed a blood-covered cloth and headed over to the sinks on Clary's right, rinsing away the red-tint from the white fabric. Clary gulped and tried to sit up.

Dull pain throbbed in the back of her head, towards her crown, and she winced slightly. Glancing down at her arm, she noticed a faint Iratze glowing against her pale skin, and frowned. Reaching down at her waist, she searched for her dagger and its sheath, and found nothing. Clary groaned as she suddenly remembered the commotion of last night.

"Jace?" she asked, her voice coming out scratchy and low as she pushed herself farther up into a sitting stance. "Jace, I need your dagger."

Jace looked over his head, tearing his eyes from the sink, his hands still manipulating the cloth under the hot water from the tap. Shaking his head, he dropped the cloth in the sink and turned the tap of, reaching for his pocket. Behind is mask of composure, Clary sensed a little bit of concern.

"Magnus healed the bump on your head," he explained, pulling his stele out of his sheath, "and I drew the Iratze to help with the concussion." Clary shook her head slightly and frowned again, grabbing the instrument, turning it in her hands.

"Thank you," she remarked, pulling out her left arm, "but I think this should do the trick." Into the skin of her upper-left arm, she drew two lines, one slightly longer than the other, and connected the two tops of the lines with a diagonal one. It looked kind of like a minuscule 'n', except its top was slanted.

_"Uruz,"_ she whispered, and looked up to see Jace staring intently at the mark as it absorbed itself into her skin - and vanished.

Immediately the pain in Clary's head subsided, and she was left with a calm sense of relief as the pain eased its way out of her body. She closed her eyes briefly as relief flooded her mind and body, and she sat up at the edge of the bed, stretching her arms over her head. She made to get up - but Jace's arm spun out of nowhere and gripped her shoulder.

"What do you think you're doing?" he demanded, and Clary noted that his expression was one of concern and anger and confusion - if that was at all possible. She looked down at his hand, tightly grabbing her shoulder, and emitted a low growl, shaking her head slightly in disbelief.

"Jace Wayland, take your hands off me," she whispered menacingly. "I've already told you this, but I'll repeat it: don't grab me, ever again, or I'll do the world a favor and prevent you from being able to produce annoying offspring."

Jace looked down, startled, before letting go of her shoulders. Clary brushed his hand away from her rather forcibly, and got up.

"Clary, you shouldn't get up. You're still hurt. Magnus said you should rest until you were fully healed." He stared at her some more, concern etched into her features. Clary snorted, feeling her wrist for her hair elastic and pulling her hair into a messy bun. She headed over to the sink and turned the tap on.

"In case you haven't noticed," she said with a hint of venom, splashing her face with cool water, "I'm fine." She grabbed the somewhat clean cloth Jace had been rinsing and ran it under the water, before rubbing it over her body to get rid of the layer of blood and dirt that covered her skin. "The rune I drew finished off the concussion, and the scratches and bruises should be gone in a couple of seconds." Sure enough, as she passed the cloth over her scratches and the discoloring on her arms slowly faded and disappeared, leaving her looking fresh and clean. Clary noted with mild amusement as Jace's mouth fell open.

He gestured to her upper-left arm, where she'd drawn the rune.

"What was that?" He asked, sounding just as astonished and bewildered as he had when she'd managed to conjure up a book out of thin air. Clary shook her head and dropped her cloth into the sink.

"Later," she said warily, as she moved her arms up and down her body, shivering slightly. "I'm going to have a really nice, warm shower, and then I'm going to change." She gestured to her clothes. Her running pants were scratched, ripped at the knees and elbows, and her tank top was caked in blood and gravel. She was barefoot. "And then, you and I are going to have a ... talk." She hoped he hadn't noticed her hesitance at the last word, but Clary was beyond nervous. She didn't want to talk with Jace, and she knew she'd somehow have to hide the big picture from him. _Somehow._

Jace narrowed his eyes, suspicion etched across his features. Clary let out an exasperated sigh and threw her hands in the air, shaking her head.

"Oh, for the Angel's sake, Jace, it's not like I'm going to run away or anything. I'm going to be two floors away from you," she spat, crossing her arms over her chest. "What do you expect me to do, climb out the window?"

Jace stared at her for another second or two, before nodding his head and reluctantly stepping out of the way of the doorframe. As Clary passed him, she heard in murmur a soft whisper that sounded suspiciously like: "_Wouldn't put it past you," _and she shot him a pointed look. Jace took one more step back and lifted his hands up.

"Hey," he said defensively, a playful edge to his tone, "you _can_ fly over roofs. And conjure magic runes. Not to mention you attract trouble like a magnet." Clary threw him another pointed look.

"When I come back down, we'll head over to Taki's, and I'll explain...things."

Jace flashed her a crocked, cocky grin as she pushed past him and headed out into the dimly lit corridor.

**-x-**

Jace was sitting in one of the soft, baby-blue booths of his favorite restaurant, a copy of the menu sitting unnecessarily on his lap - he had the printed document memorized, after all. Across from him sat Clary - clean, fresh, healed Clary, who had her red hair pulled back into a french braid. Her aviators were perched on her head and her leather jacket was slung carelessly over her shoulders. Under neath it, she was wearing a yellow t-shirt with a v-neck cut, jean shorts, and her combat boots, and looked nothing like a girl who'd been in a near-death fight only a day ago.

"So," he began, as he waived the waitress off with his order of _pancakes, two black coffees, no milk, no sugar, _"where do you want to start?"

Clary shot him a semi-glare, her emerald eyes blazing with annoyance. Jace thought he saw the slightest hint of fear flicker over her face, before it was replaced with her infuriating mask of indifference. She shook her head, her braid falling off her shoulder as she did.

"Let me get one thing straight, Jace, before we begin," she said, and her voice was taught and controlled, without the slightest bit of emotion to it. Jace wondered why she was acting so controlled. "I_ can't_ tell you _everything._ First, because I've been forbidden, and second, because I'm not sure if I can trust you. And, frankly, partly because I doubt you actually deserve to know it, too."

Jace nodded complacently. He was glad that she was at least providing some answers for this aura of confusion that was following her since she'd arrived two nights ago. Inside, however, the sentence _I'm not sure if I can trust you_ was repeating itself over and over, sending tiny spears to his heart. Shaking his head slightly, Jace ignored this feeling.

"Okay," he said, trying to sound indifferent, but failing to keep the curiosity and hurt out of his voice, "why don't we start with why you're here?"

Clary replied instantly:

"I don't know." Jace shot her a look, and she narrowed her eyes even further. "I honestly don't know. I was told to come to New York, so here I am."

Jace sensed the truthfulness in her voice, and rephrased his question.

"Who sent you here?"

He watched with interest as her eyebrows furrowed, trying to figure out if this was a question she could answer or not. Her eyes sparkled intently as she stared into his eyes, emerald into gold. Finally, she sighed.

"Can't you guess?" Her eyes never left his, and Jace felt slightly intimidated as he contemplated her question.

"It wasn't the Clave," he pondered, his voice soft yet decisive as he considered who else could hold authority over Clary. _No. Not the Clave, not her parents, not Raz- _an imaginary lightbulb went off in his head. "Raziel did, didn't he?"

Clary nodded almost indiscernably, her eyebrows creasing ever so slightly. Before she could change her mind about providing him with answers, Jace asked another question:

"How long have you and Raziel been buddy-buddy?"

Clary stared at him momentarily, before throwing her head back and laughing sincerely. Jace was amiably surprised - he hadn't heard Clary laugh genuinely since she'd returned to New York, and inside him a warm, effervescent feeling spread, causing his toes and fingers to tingle ever so slightly. He wanted to make her laugh again, he realized - and was surprised anew.

"Well, I wouldn't exactly say buddy-buddy..." she started, her voice still thick with amusement. "I left New York three years ago after..." She trailed off and bit her bottom lip, smiling ruefully up at him. Jace shook his head and reached over the table to touch her arm.

"Clary, about that - "

She held up a hand, motioning for him to stop. "Don't mention it. We were young. It was way to serious of a relationship, and neither of us was really ready for it. Neither of us was mature, emotionally, to handle that kind of dedication. I don't blame you at all, although I sometimes wished you could have broken things off a little differently...I wouldn't change it."

Forgiveness and compassion graced over her eyes, and Jace found himself smiling. _She forgives me,_ he thought, and the warm, effervescent feeling grew. He found himself nodding, agreeing to what she'd said. At the back of his mind, something pulsed lightly. Jace didn't recognize the feeling.

"Anyways," she said, continuing with her story, "I left to visit my mum and Luke after that, and stayed there for a little while. Then the Clave contacted me." She paused, and Jace watched her intently as she traced some sort of pattern with her fingers onto the plastic table. "They wanted me to train with them - and they wanted me to make some more runes."

Jace nodded again, his brain still alive with curiosity. "Yeah, you mentioned that at the Pandemonium when you attacked me. You said they - ah - recognized them?" Clary nodded again, her eyes following the pattern she was tracing into the table with her index finger.

"Yeah - _Light, Dark, Alliance, Portal _as well as some others like _Rise, Protect, _and _Forget._ They recognized those, although I provided a couple more. They didn't work the way they were supposed to. I always thought that there could be a rune for everything, but it turns out I was wrong...Obviously."

Jace wondered what she meant by obviously, but decided to ask her about it another time. Clary coughed slightly and continued:

"Anyways, they contacted me and asked for some runes, some of which didn't work out. I was feeling really depressed during that time period - Mum and Luke left to travel to Africa and Russia, and my runes weren't as all powerful as I'd first believed them to be...So I missed more and more training sessions. The Clave started to get angry and demanding - the Inquisitor sent me lists and lists of new runes he wanted me to develop, as if that was how it worked." Her voice was thick with resentment and bitterness. "One day, I went on a walk - and I just ended up at Lake Lynn. And that's where I saw Raziel again."

She paused, and frowned.

"I can't exactly recall what happened, but he - he spoke to me. If I closed my eyes, I could see him. It was kind of scary, at first. But he treated me in a way the Clave didn't - respectfully. Like I was somehow under his care."

Jace frowned slightly as she mentioned the manner in which the Clave had treated her. "That's not like them," he said, and hastened to explain himself when Clary shot him a confused look. "I mean, they've been known to make mistakes - obviously, Valentine showed you that - but they've always respected Shadowhunters. If anything, their mistakes took place because they focused on protecting our...kind. They're always really considerate and careful with hunters, especially since Valentine tried to overthrow them. As if they're scared someone might take up where he left off."

Clary stared at the counter for a little while, her brow furrowed as she contemplated his statement. Finally, she said:

"I don't know how it has been for other Shadowhunters, but that's the way they treated me." Her voice was thick with disapproval. "I'm not lying, either."

Jace shook his head, slightly bewildered, and grabbed her hand, stopping it in its tracks.

"I'm not saying that you are," he started, but Clary's face stopped him. She was starring intently at his hand, her mouth slightly agape. "What? Clary?" He dropped her hand hastily, and hid his under the table. Clary starred a little while longer, and he saw something flicker across her face. _Disbelief. Recognition. Confusion._ But these emotions were gone in a flash, replaced by a mask of indifference Jace had begun to become very annoyed with.

"I hate it when you do that," he mumbled, smoothing his pants out with his hands and looking away.

"Do what?" Clary asked idly, her eyes still slightly glazed over as she looked at him without truly seeing him. Jace knew she was still thinking about his hand. He shook his head and dropped it, slightly embarrassed.

"Your face," he offered as an explanation, "sometimes when you're thinking I can see emotions on your face, and it reminds me so much of how I used to be able to read you like an open book. But now you've got this - this mask of some sort. And you hide behind it."

He looked up to find Clary starring at him, mild anger visible in her emerald-green eyes.

"I don't hide behind anything, Jace Wayland," she said, her tone cold and hard. "Not anymore." Her lips were tight, her eyes accusatory, and he knew she was accusing him of hiding behind things. Jace ignored it and grinned cockily.

"Okay," he challenged, entertwining his fingers and lifting his hands onto the plastic table, "how about you explain to me what happened last night? Before you ran out of the Institute."

Clary looked at him, unabashed, and her eyes were cold and calculating as she considered wether or not she could tell him. Finally, she sighed and began, in a clipped and cold tone:

"I don't see why I can't, considering you wouldn't be able to reciprocate the process." She challenged Jace with her eyes, twinkling in the dimly lit diner, but he remained silent. Finally, she continued: "Raziel and I aren't as close as you might think. I've only had four visions of him. The first, at Lake Lynn. The second, when he taught me how to elongate my jumps and 'fly over roofs', as you put it. The third, when he told me what my purpose -" she caught herself, and swallowed, looking away, "when he told me I had to come to New York again. And the fourth, last night."

"The visions are always the same, in a sense. He's always in this place, and its so bright...Yesterday, he said I had to learn how to do something in order to accomplish my... training. He taught me how to visualize things behind my eyes."

"I don't think I understand" Jace said, frowning again. Clary sighed.

"Actually, I don't think I understand, either. I'm just telling you what I know," she looked up at him, brazen, and added: "Well, most of what I know, anyway."

Jace nodded, and sighed resignedly. He really wanted to understand. _Why is this so complicated?_

"Well, what I'm getting - correct me if I'm wrong - is this: You left New York, spent time with your mum and Luke. Then, the Clave contacted you and trained you. You made a couple of runes for them, but some didn't turn out as well as you hoped and you got a little depressed. You stopped making runes, but the Clave and the Inquisitor didn't leave you alone, so you stopped going to training. Eventually, you got bored of sitting at home all day, so you went for a walk to Lake Lynn. And there, Raziel contacted you." He paused, trying to figure out how he was going to formulate the next part.

"Okay," he said eventually, his eyebrow creased, "this is the part where I get confused. He talked to you about...something, and then he offered to train you instead of the Clave? And then, he says that as part of the completion of your training, you have to come to New York? And learn how to visualize things in your head?" Clary's mouth opened, but Jace silenced her with a wave of his hand. "Here's the part I don't get. First, what are you training for? Is he just teaching you what Shadowhunters would be taught? Obviously not, since I've never heard of anyone being able to fly over rooftops, nor anyone who could conjure objects with their minds. Second, why is he training you? And why is he teaching you all these things? And lastly, how does the visualize-thing work? Do you just...imagine something, and it materializes?" He finished his rant and threw his hands up in the air, as if to display his confusion. "Help me out, here, I'm seriously lost."

Clary sighed and she lifted her hands up in defense.

"Hey, I never said this was as clear as glass." She scrunched her face up. "Your first question I can't answer. I'm training to become something. It's definitely bigger than a Shadowhunter, but that's all I can tell you. Your second question, I can't answer either. I know this sounds weird, because I've only really spoken to him a grand total of five times, I love Raziel. He's like a father to me. I think he feels like that too, like I'm his daughter. But I don't know. Do angels feel?" She paused, and took a deep breath. "And your last question - this is going to sound really confusing...Close your eyes."

Jace frowned a little, but did as he was told. Darkness enveloped his vision and he stared at the little lights and colours that were moving sporadically across his eyelids. His ears picked up Clary's voice as she began talking again. He opened his eyes, dropping his vision on hers as he held it there, listening intently as the red-head attempted to explain to him how she'd managed to have a book appear out of thin air, and into her hands.

"He told me I had to manipulate them, shift them and enlarge them and arrange them in order to make it look like an object. It took me a while, but I finally got the hang of it. I still don't know why it's useful, though."

Jace nodded absentmindedly as he considered what she was saying. Without meaning to, he blurted out:

"So what do we do now?"

Clary shot him a look as the waitress brought them their pancakes and coffees. Taking a sip from the black liquid, she smiled devilishly.

"Well, I don't know about you, but I haven't received specific directions yet. I want to enjoy my stay as much as possible."

She winked at him, playfully, as she scooped a spoon-full of pancake into her mouth. Jace found himself grinning back.

"The Pandamonium it is," he said, taking a sip of the watery coffee as he observed the grin that spread across Clary's face.

* * *

><p><strong>wow. almost 4000 words :)<strong>

**this was a long chapter, but it was needed, no?**

**review, please?**

**I've decided I might send spoilers...Do people want that? Let me now, please :)**


	7. sleepless

**chapter 7; sleepless**

* * *

><p><em>"Who says I can't get stoned, turn of the lights and the telephone, me in my house alone..."<em>

Clary hummed, her fingers gently plucking the strings on her guitar, jumping from chord to chord. The room was slightly dark, the sun having set behind the New York Skyline. Beside the hard bench she was sitting on lay a silent, sombre grand piano, shining slightly as the lights from the hallway broke through the crack in the door, and filtered through the window. Absentmindedly, she finger-picked her way into the chorus, hopping to a G - chord, her index dancing across the E string, landing on the third fret.

_"It's been a long night in New York City, it's been a long night in Baton Rouge..."_

Her voice grew bolder, low and scratchy in her John Mayer impersonation, and she sang louder, the sounds rolling of her tongue. She ended the chorus off with a low A, hovering slightly before she launched into the next verse. Her voice was still soft, but she was louder, more confident.

_"Who says I can't take time, meet all the girls on the county line, then wait for fate to send me a sign..."_

She was about to repeat the chorus, when she heard a soft knock on the door of the music room. Stopping abruptly, she let the E minor chord play out as she called out a small "come in". She leaned the guitar on her knee as she watched Isabelle open the door and step through its threshold. Her long, silky black hair was tied back into a ponytail, and she wore an expression of mild curiosity and something else Clary couldn't quite recognize. Wistfulness, perhaps?

Isabelle flicked the light switch on and nodded towards Clary, gesturing to the seat beside her on the hard leather bench. Clary smiled, and patted the space beside her.

"Isabelle?"

The black-haired girl sat down, her gaze never leaving Clary's. "Since when do you play?" She asked, gesturing down towards the guitar. The redhead shrugged, softly tapping the wood instrument with her fingers.

"I think I started about a year ago. Luke had one he lent be before he and my mum left to travel." Clary studied her friend's face, noticing the regretful and slightly pained expression as it returned. She sighed. "Izzy, what's wrong?"

Isabelle's shoulders sagged a little, but her dark eyes never left Clary's green ones as she grimaced slightly. "It doesn't really matter," she said eventually, but her tone of voice indicated that it did. Clary sighed again, and leaned the guitar against the piano, crossing her arms over her chest.

"Just spit it out, Iz," she said, her voice soft yet commanding. Isabelle nodded, her black hair falling over her shoulders slightly as she finally broke her gaze from Clary's and looked straight ahead, her eyes fixed on the door.

"I just...I just don't understand," she admitted, her eyes downcast as she stared at crack between the door and its frame. "We used to be so close, and then when you left I told myself it was because of Jace, because he'd been such an arrogant jerk. I thought you'd come back in a month, maybe two...And - " her voice cracked slightly, and Clary winced, "and when you _didn't_, I told myself you'd write, you'd call, you'd somehow be in touch...But you weren't. And then out of the blue, my _mother_ tells me Clarissa Fray is going to be staying at the Institute for a while, while she and dad saunter off to Idris for stupid Clave meetings...And I had to learn it from my mother, and it broke my heart because I realized maybe it wasn't just _Jace_ you were running away from. Maybe you were running away from _me,_ too."

Clary sat silently, stunned, as she watched Isabelle's face. Refusing to meet her eyes, the girl before her leaned into the piano, her shoulders pulled forward so that she was turning her back to Clary.

"Izzy," Clary said, softly. She ignored her, brushing her hands over the keys of the piano.

"Isabelle," Clary said, louder. "Isabelle, look at me." Slowly, the raven-haired girl turned around, her eyes settling on Clary's. Clary reached out and grabbed her into a hug. Isabelle's hands twined themselves around the redhead's waist and she rested her head on Clary's shoulder, shaking silently. Clary realized that Isabelle was crying.

"Izzy, I didn't run away," Clary began, but she felt her friend's body stiffen underneath her. Isabelle pulled away quickly and eyed Clary with a mixture of compassion and anger.

"Don't bullshit me," she said, and her voice was hard. "Or yourself," she added as an afterthought. Clary sat, silently, as she thought back.

Had she run away? She had wanted a fresh start. She had been too emotionally invested in Jace and wanted a new beginning. Did that count as running away?

"You might not see it like that, Clary," Isabelle interrupted, reading Clary's thoughts, "but you avoided confrontation. You were in way too deep with Jace, so you left without saying anything, to anyone. That counts as running away, even if you have some other bullshit way of putting it. People usually call them 'Fresh starts' or 'starting over phases', but its all the same, really."

Clary shrugged, and frowned. "Well, if you put it like that..." she muttered, defensively. Shaking her head, she continued. "Honestly, Izzy, in my mind I wasn't running away, at least not from you. But when mum and Luke moved to Idris because the Clave wanted him on the council, I had no one else in New York except for you. And at the time, living in the Institute wasn't a pleasant option for me."

Isabelle frowned slightly and shook her head. "But I still don't understand. I mean, I know you broke up..."

Clary eyed her speculatively and paused, Isabelle's unanswered question floating across the room. Finally, she muttered:

"What did Jace tell you?" Clary's fought her mind as it flashed a warning sign. She had to get this off her chest - for Izzy's sake, as well as hers.

"Well, nothing, really, but I know what I saw," Isabelle mused, her eyes still downcast. "You guys were more than in love...It was like you were obsessed. It was kind of scary, frankly. You spent all your time together, you finished each other's sentences, you didn't hang out with your friends anymore." She paused, and swallowed, as if she didn't know how to go about finishing the rest of her story. "And then you had the fight, the one where you went out to hang with Simon and Jace became an overprotective, jealous bastard. And then you left the next night."

Clary nodded, dropping her eyes to the ground. "It was a little bit more complicated than that. During the fight, we said some things..." She furrowed her brow, and heard Isabelle shuffle uncomfortably beside her.

"Clary, if you don't want to talk about it..." She started, her eyes slightly watery. Clary shook her head.

"No," she stated stubbornly, clasping her hands together, "I want to." She took a deep breath and continued. "He said some things about how I was a danger magnet and how I he was tired of constantly having to watch over me. I told him he was an overprotective jerk, and by the end of it I stormed out. We didn't...We didn't break up, though."

Isabelle's brow furrowed. "I don't understand...If you didn't break up...Why did you run away?"

Clary inhaled loudly, her eyes still focused on the wooden floor. "Well, the next night I came home. I spent the day at Simon's parents home...I hadn't seen him in so long, it was nice to talk to him. He convinced me to talk to Jace about our issues - you were right, we were way to obsessed with one another. And I knocked on his door, but he wasn't there. I checked everywhere - the library, the training room... Eventually I found him when I opened the door to my room. Except he wasn't...alone."

Clary winced as a memory of a shirtless Jace lying over top - _No, _she said, firmly. _It's in the past. I'm over it._ She turned to peer at Isabelle's expression, a combination of horror and confusion and disbelief.

"Wait - are you saying he _cheated _ on you? In _your_ room?" The girl's voice was dripping with anger, but also regret. "Oh, my god, Clary! No _wonder..._ Holy fuck!"

Clary nodded. "Yeah," she offered, although she didn't really have to say anything. Isabelle had said it all. Suddenly, she got up off the bench, brushing her grey-rinsed jeans off absentmindedly as she picked up the guitar. "Well, now you know," she muttered, her eyes searching in the darkness for the pick she'd had minutes ago. "Look, don't bother Jace about it, kay? We already talked about it..." _Liar._ "And we've agreed that its in the past."

Isabelle nodded, her expression solemn. "Thank you for sharing, Clary." Her eyes were slightly rueful as she eyes the instrument in Clary's hands. "I think I understand." She got up too, her elongated legs wobbling ever so slightly on her heels as she regained her upright balance. She sighed, and pulled Clary into a hug.

"I wish it didn't have to be this way," she muttered into the redhead's ear, holding her tightly. "I wish I could have been there when you started to play guitar, and when you attended your training...I just wish you hadn't become so distant. You were the first, and the only, girl friend I've ever had. I really wish this all hadn't happened."

Clary nodded as she broke out of the hug, slightly uncomfortable. "I missed you too, Izzy. But I don't regret it. It was for the best. If I hadn't left..." _I never would have seen Raziel again. I wouldn't be where I am now._

Izzy nodded, misreading Clary's emerald eyes. "Yeah. You guys would have killed each other, or worse."

**-x-**

Clary was lying on her bed, her hands behind her head as she stared up at the ceiling. It was four in the morning, and try as she might, she couldn't sleep.

Sighing, she rolled over to the side of her bed and slipped her feet into a pair of soft flip flops. Rubbing her eyes, she got up and headed towards the door, her vision blurred by the darkness. Tugging a pair of shorts over her underwear, she opened the door and made her way blindly across the dark corridor, stopping at elevator.

Five minutes later, she was sitting in a bright kitchen, a cup of hot chocolate cooling off under her nose as she hunched over her tattered copy of _A Midsummer Night's Dream_ resting on the counter. She was so absorbed and exhausted she didn't hear the footsteps as someone came into the kitchen until they breathed down her ear:

"Shakespeare, eh?"

Clary jumped, nearly falling off the stool, and her left arm colliding with the mug of hot chocolate as she struggled to steady herself. She watched in horror from her half-crouched recovery pose as the warm liquid spilled out of the cup and hurdled its way towards her beloved play. She reached for it, but before she knew it had been lifted from the counter. Swearing under her breath, she peered up at the grinning face of Jace Wayland.

He was clutching the book open with one hand, the other strewn across his forehead in a fake melodrama. He was arched backward, his knees slightly bent, as he cried out a soft:

_"__Angels are bright still, though the brightest fell;  
><em>_Though all things foul would wear the brows of grace,  
><em>_Yet grace must still look so!"_

Clary straightened herself out and grabbed a tea-towel, smacking it against Jace's arm as she went to clean up the chocolate spill. "That's from _Macbeth_, not _A Midsummer Night's Dream._" She ran the cloth over the wet counter, her mouth pressed into a hard line.

Jace dropped her play by the fridge before he reached into the fridge and pulled out a bottle of vodka, setting it down on the counter. "That must be why Hodge threatened to fail me in English Literature. Not that anyone cared," he said jokingly, pulling out to shot glasses and setting them on the newly-wiped counter. "Couldn't sleep, huh?"

Clary nodded absentmindedly, playing with the hem of her camisole, and silently wishing she was wearing a sweater, something more covering. Jace poured some vodka into the shot glasses, before pulling out spirits and mixing them together until he had some colorful concoction. Grinning, he handed one to Clary.

"Drink up," he said amiably, "It'll knock you out cold, and it's delicious."

Clary reached for the drink tentatively, looking into Jace's eyes for some sort of trick. Jace simply smiled and swallowed his in one gulp, showing off. Clary smiled a little, before doing the same.

She gasped as the alcohol burned its way down her throat. He _was _right - it was delicious. She smiled at Jace, who was pouring another round already. "These are really, really good," she said after her second, her brain comfortably fuzzy after the drinks. It wasn't enough to get drunk, but enough to take off the edge she so desperately wanted to rid herself of.

Jace smiled and wriggled his eyebrows. "It's called an _Angel Tit._"

Clary snorted, and swallowed her third. "Only you would go looking for the most inappropriately named shooters, Lightwood."

Jace grinned cockily, and Clary felt a tingling in her fingers as he brushed past her. _Just the alcohol,_ she thought stubbornly. _Its just the alcohol. _She knew she should refuse the fourth, but after his golden eyes met her emerald ones and her hurt fluttered involuntarily, she chugged the alcohol down as quickly as Jace had whipped it up. Screw the consequences. Tonight, all she wanted to do was forget, just for a little while, and live.

"Did you hear anything from Razzle-Dazzle yet?" Jace asked a couple minutes later, his voice slightly shaky as he sat on the other side of the table, the bottle of vodka sitting comfortably between them.

Clary raised her eyebrows. "You mean Raziel, right?"

Jace nodded absentmindedly, playing with the ring on his index finger. Clary recognized the ring, and winced.

"Um, no," she said quickly, averting her eyes from the treacherous piece of jewelry that had once been hanging across the chain on her neck. She remembered flinging it at Jace when they'd had the argument. "It's quite frustrating, actually."

Jace cocked his head to one side and poured them both a glass of pure vodka. "How so?" he asked, his hand playing with his glass as he sloshed the contents lightly.

Clary groaned. "It's just - I have no fricken idea why I'm here, or what I'm supposed to do! And all I can think is that there's something in New York - some big _test_ or _obstacle_ or whatever, and he wants me to get over it."

Jace stared at his glass for a little while, before pursing his lips. "Do you think those demons who attacked you had anything to do with it?" he asked, his voice careful and his eyebrows furrowed. Clary started slightly at his suggestion, but considered it for a little while before responding.

"Perhaps. I hadn't given it much thought, to be honest." She nodded her head again. "Yeah, I think you're right. I'll look into it - it'll give me something to do."

Jace grinned up at her and lifted his glass. "I'll help you," he promised, and she met his glass with a slight _tink!_ before drowning down the alcohol.

"Mhh," she sighed contentedly, her eyelids becoming heavy. "Tomorrow."

And with that, she felt her world and the bright lights from the kitchen slip into oblivion as sleep claimed her tired mind.

* * *

><p><strong>song: John Mayer "Who Says"<strong>

**sorry it's so late. Really.**

**Thank you for your reviews! I've decided to respond to them all and include a spoiler or peek or whatever-you-want-to-call-it. :) So please review, they make me update faster... :)**

**Thank you for everyone who has reviewed, subscribed, or added my story as a favorite. You have no idea what it does to come across an author and notice my story as one of their favorites :')**

**I hope you liked the explanation with Isabelle - I felt it was long overdue. Also, all in Clary's POV because some people requested I try to show more insight to her feelings with Jace. She's denying them right now, but you see them here and there...If you want anything, please let me know! Any suggestions would be greatly appreciated :)**


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